


tattoos are permanent, and i don't like permanence

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, tattoo artist flower shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kuroo man, who is he?" Bokuto whines as Kuroo locks the shop and brushes the sweat gathering on his forehead. It's the height of summer and Bokuto is slightly worried of the flowers wilting in this heat. "Who's the hot tattoo guy?"</p><p>"Sorry, there were a lot of customers today. Can you describe the one you're talking about?"</p><p>Bokuto seethes. "The one wearing the muscle tank with arms that I will kill for!" Then, "And he has really nice hair. And a tattoo."</p>
            </blockquote>





	tattoos are permanent, and i don't like permanence

**Author's Note:**

> akaashi!!!! with!!!! heterochromia!!!!
> 
> i finished writing the bokuaka jazz story but i dont like it. and most likely i'll rewrite the whole thing because it's just UGH and i can't post it because its UGH. so yeah. YOU HAVE THIS INSTEAD! ENJOY. AKAASHI. WITH. HETEROCHROMIA. TATTOO ARTIST AKAASHI. aAAaaAHhHhHH
> 
> AND BOKUTO. WITH. SYNESTHESIA! YES?

 

 

Bokuto Koutarou, professional volleyball player, spends his days working in a nice flower shop in the middle of Shibuya where he attends Tokyo U on a volleyball scholarship and cares for his petunias. On the side, he participates in competitions and rents a room near the Chiyoda ward with Kuroo. People raise their eyebrows when he tells them  _yeah I have a job at this really nice flower shop!_  because why would he spend time around flowers when he has balls to spike?

 

So what if he likes flowers and working with Ukai and Takeda.

 

The bell chimes and he hears Kuroo greet a customer as he carefully pats manure into the pots, rubbing the back of his hand on his cheeks as someone pale enters.

 

The first thing he thinks of is,  _shit he's so hot_  and  _is that a tattoo around his collarbones?_

 

"Kuroo man, who is he?" Bokuto whines as Kuroo locks the shop and brushes the sweat gathering on his forehead. It's the height of summer and Bokuto is slightly worried of the flowers wilting in this heat. "Who's the hot tattoo guy?"

 

His best friend is an absolute bastard at times. "Sorry, there were a lot of customers today. Can you describe the one you're talking about?"

 

Bokuto seethes. "The one wearing the muscle tank with arms that I will kill for!" Then, "And he has really nice hair. And a tattoo."

 

Kuroo snickers as they enter Tokyo Station for the Shinkansen, voice wavering from his usual dark red color to a fine gold. " _That_ would be one of the tattoo artists next door."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bokuto doesn't know how to introduce himself to the tattoo artist because they have absolute nothing in common- him being a (volleyball player) florist and the other being an artist. But lo and behold, one day the hot tattoo guy walks into the flower shop, and Bokuto could have cried at whatever god is watching over him at his luck.

 

"Hello!" Bokuto gives the hot tattoo artist his best smile that's not too blinding nor too desperate, he thinks. The tattoo artist is wearing shades even though it's raining out. "How can I help you?"

 

"We ordered some gardenias for pick up." His voice is quiet, and it puts Bokuto at ease but at the same time it makes his pulse jump like he's been wrestling Kuroo for the last slice of brownie in their dorm room. The stranger digs into his pocket and pulls out a receipt. "Here."

 

Bokuto grabs the piece of paper and accidentally brushes his hands with the artist, and feels his cold hands before pulling back. He stares at his hand, before the stranger clears his throat awkwardly, and Bokuto hears Lev snicker (he's watering the smaller plants outside) as he goes into the back to find the gardenias, flustered.

 

"LEV! COME HELP ME!" Bokuto likes to think he's strong, but the receipt calls for a dozen of petunias still in their pots, and Bokuto knows their clay pots are heavy. After a great struggle, he and Lev drags the pots in their long crates to the still and sees the stranger study his nails. "Well, here we are! I see you've paid in advance, so-"

 

He stops in mid sentence and blinks for a good second before the stranger grapples for the sunglasses and shoves them on his nose again.

 

"Thank you." The artist says in almost a brusque tone. Bokuto watches as he leans down and picks the whole crate by himself and shuffles sideways through the door.

 

Then Lev is rounding on him, aghast as he waves his soil covered gloves around in indignation. "Senpai! Why'd you stop and stare at him?! It's rude to the customer!-"

 

"Did you see his eyes?"

 

"Wha- No. Why?"

 

"They were different colors." Bokuto says in awe, watching the artist walk past their shop window wearing black skinny jeans and another muscle tank that shows off his arms in the 27 Celsius weather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuroo throws some rose stems he's cut at him. "Apologize to him!"

 

"He hates me probably." Bokuto sulks, cutting the plastic zip ties that holds a bunch of white roses. "I asked Tsukki why his eyes are like that, he said something about heterochromia. His eyes are really pretty though- like a cat's. One's like, dark and the other one's like, light brown."

 

"How poetic." Kuroo entertains him, before chucking more stems at him. "But go apologize! You're slacking and we have a big shipment tomorrow and Ukai is going to bite you if you don't shape up!"

 

"UGH I GET IT. STOP BEING ON MY CASE."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bokuto gathers his courage to lurk outside the tattoo shop and to pace around like a worried hen before steeling himself. There's a bell that tinkles, and he sees two clients lying down with what looks like a bald monk and a delinquent with spiky hair inking their forearms.

 

The delinquent looks up and shouts a greeting, before wiping his client's arm and turning one of the gardenia pots in front of him. "Welcome!"

 

"H-Hi!" Goes Bokuto's voice. And he winces at how high pitched it is and dances to the side of the room where there's a binder of past inkings on clients to be flipped through. "J-Just looking!"

 

"Got it. My name's Iwaizumi if you need anything." The delinquent goes back to inking his client- a man with brown hair and an easy smile that puts Bokuto somewhat at ease. Because of how quiet the shop it, Bokuto hears him mumble, "Stop moving, Oikawa."

 

Bokuto wanders to the binders and flips them with interest, noting the ones of monochrome colors and delicate lines everywhere. The ceiling fan and the quiet conversation between Iwaizumi and his client gives Bokuto some things to listen to and he makes a note that Oikawa has a deathly fear of needles but still goes for a tattoo. Alright.

 

"Geh."

 

The hot tattoo artist has a stack of folders in his hand and a pot of gardenias in the other. He's about to turn when Bokuto leans over the counter and grabs a hold of his shirt, whispering, " _Don't run away I'm here to apologize!_ "

 

Hot Tattoo Guy hesitates, and Bokuto is thinking that he must be half vampire, because even his forearms are deathly cold in the shop. "You don't need to apologize, I understand that it was an accident." He mumbles, setting down the flowers and sketchpad and folders before slotting them behind the counter. In close proximity, the stranger's skin is pale and Bokuto can admire the long nose and perpetually elegant eyebrows and long lashes and ugh he is so fucking screwed. He's too pretty for Bokuto's health.

 

"I'm Bokuto Koutarou and your eyes are really pretty." He blurts out without thinking, and a split second later he internally groans about how smooth he is in front of this perfect creation.

 

Hot Tattoo Guy pauses. "...thank you?" His sentence hitches into a question, brows scrunching up loosely. "I'm Akaashi Keiji..."

 

"You're a new hire here?" Bokuto gestures to the shop. "I've been working at the flower shop for two years and I haven't really seen you around until a week ago."

 

"Yes. Iwaizumi-san is gracious enough to allow me to be one of his artists." Akaashi says smoothly, relaxing a slightly bit. "Are you looking for a tattoo?"

 

Bokuto fidgets. "Oh. Um. I came in just to apologize to you." He stands there, awkwardness enveloping them like a blanket before it's smothering Bokuto too much and he yelps, " _soyeahthankyouforhearingmeoutiguessi'llseeyoulater!_ "

 

He nearly gives Iwaizumi a concussion on his way out to the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi sips his seventh cup of coffee, pressing the forward button on the store's stereo system as Iwaizumi wipes down all the chairs and counters. "What did flower boy from next door want from you?" He asks as he returns to the counter, reaching for his pipe before huffing out smoke that curls around him. The decorative band of ink around his biceps moves as he taps the pipe so the ashes falls into its designated bowl.

 

He shrugs, taking his finger away from the button as London Grammar plays in the shop. "Wanted to apologized. He stared at my eyes when I came to pick up the petunias."

 

"Your type?" His employer grins as Akaashi coughs and waves his hand at the air to disperse the smoke. 

 

"He's clumsy."

 

"He's a professional volleyball player. Got drafted for Nationals and Olympics twice already- not even in his mid twenties yet. Hm, I think we're all around the same age, Akaashi, if you want to go for it."

 

Akaashi scoffs lightly, "You're my boss Iwaizumi-san, I don't think I'll be talking to you about him anytime soon." He dumps his empty cup beside the coffee machine before taking off the apron around him. "I will lock the shop after you leave."

 

"You sure about staying here though? Wouldn't you rather be in your dorm room to study?"

 

"No. My final portfolio is soon to be dued." Akaashi points to the canvas hiding behind the counter, before deadpanning. "Oil and arcylic on canvas. Black and white. The source of my misery and tears."

 

Iwaizumi snuffs out his pipe before snorting, tossing the keys at Akaashi before waving a hand as he leaves the shop. "Try not to drink every single packet of instant coffee here. Night!"

 

"Good night, Iwaizumi-san." He mumbles, before shutting off the lights and turning on the small lamp by the cash register that illuminates the counter. He preps his paintbrushes, grabbing the tubs of yogurt tubs and filling them with warm water before hauling out a set of paints on the counter.

 

He picks off right where he left off, squeezing out a large amount of white before wetting the canvas with water and spreading the paint on the wet surface. His eyes aren't normal- yet again he's not all that normal either. He's a tattoo artist who's skin is a blank slate. Akaashi hates permanence and ink is permanent, therefore nothing will be ever etched on him. Permanence is a shackle that binds the person down, and he was born with wings- wings that are made to reach higher.

 

Ed Sheeran plays over the shop's speakers, and that's when Akaashi realizes there's a pair of eyes staring at him through the shop's little window on the door.

 

He opens it, ignoring the flower boy's awestruck look. "...do you need anything?" The roads are quiet, illuminated by the soft street lamps and fairy lights still strung in the tree branches even though majority of them are covered by the green foliage. The cold night breeze makes goosebumps appear on his arms, and he raises a brow at the flower boy.

 

"Erm. I- Well... Sure." He finally says, deflating a bit as Akaashi steps aside. The flower b-  _man_. Akaashi reminds himself, the flower man walks in, and Akaashi scrutinizes his sweat soaked shirt and the jersey in his hand before gesturing to the stool near the counter where his painting is still wet.

 

"Oh wow."

 

He creeps closer to the painting, looking like he wants to touch it, and Akaashi is ready to slap his hand away and kick him out if he so much smudges one line. But he doesn't, so he relaxes a teensy bit as flower man continues to stare at it.

 

"Icarus?"

 

"He fell to his demise because of the waters- not sun." Akaashi explains. "Most people thought it was the wax and sun, but he fell into the sea and drowned." He gives a lengthy explanation about the Greek myth to Bokuto, who looks fascinated. Akaashi realizes he's babbling, and immediately shuts his mouth in mid sentence.

 

"...that's so deep." Another awestruck look.

 

"Thank you." He says, "Were you running?"

 

"Oh? Oh yeah!" Bokuto bends down to tie his laces, and Akaashi sees a peek of his collarbones. "My university team has a game at 5- which is crazy early but we had to reserve the courts at that time since we're apparently not important enough to get the normal game times. Anyway, usually I get too worked up before games so I run a good 5K before I go to sleep. Then I saw you painting and...got side tracked."

 

"You're a volleyball player?" Akaashi studies his painting, before adding black to the edges since he's just about done. His broad bristled brush makes a quiet sketching sound. "What position?"

 

"Wing spiker! Do you play?"

 

"No. Iwaizumi-san used to play though. He's the boss here. And one of the workers also plays, he's Tanaka-san." Akaashi dips the brush back into the murky water, and grabs a cloth before rubbing the arcylic paint off his arms. It's a bad habit of his, to use his arm to make the brush clean instead of the water. Bokuto looks at his arm critically, and furrows his brow.

 

"Didn't you have a tattoo there?"

 

"It's washable."

 

"Eh? I thought the design was cool. So all the ones on you right now are erasable? Why?" Flower man's gold eyes gleam behind his glasses.

 

"I don't like permanence, Bokuto-san."

 

Bokuto tilts his head like a curious puppy, evaluating his words before deciding that Akaashi was sprouting some really deep philosophical stuff that Bokuto can't wrap his brain around. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Okay. So- you're an art major?"

 

"Majoring in art, minoring in philosophy. I never knew you used glasses."

 

"Reading glasses. I was studying before I ran here." Bokuto closes his eyes and presses his palms until he sees green fireworks behind his lids. Akaashi's voice is a soothing, but his eyes are still prickling with tiredness, and now it's too late for him to go back to sleep. A nap will suffice on the way to the gymnasium, that is if Kuroo doesn't flick cornflakes at him.

 

And then he turns and sees Akaashi staring at him with his different colored eyes. Now in the bright lighting, the left one is a clear hazel color while the other is a startling dark brown, and Bokuto feels his mouth becoming dry.

 

"...Sit on the chair, I'll make you an eye mask and some tea." He sees Akaashi go towards the back, opening cupboards for tea packets and two pairs of mugs before tapping the hot water dispenser. Bokuto walks over to the chair and makes himself as comfortable as he can, wiggling and stretching out and blinking heavily. He sees why Oikawa had looked so relaxed earlier.

 

A pair of hands, strong boned with tapered fingers appear, before a warm towel is placed around his eyes and Bokuto sighs a little, tension easing out and the thought of the game seven hours away simply vanish.

 

"This is London Grammar playing on the radio?" He asks, making conversation because well, he's sitting in this guy's shop at ten at night and Akaashi is kind enough to give him some tea and humor him. "I like them."

 

"Me too, Oikawa complains that their sound is too foggy."

 

"Nah, it's a bit more like mist in a forest." Bokuto can see it clearly in his mind. "This Oikawa guy- does he have synesthesia?"

 

A stunned pause. "Yes, he does. How do you know?"

 

"I can see where he gets the fog from. The tuning is really dark- and I think of mist when I hear them." Bokuto starts to ramble. "Rain sounds misty too- snow sounds white and muffled, like you're underwater and it's all peaceful. It's grey all around you, monochrome. Sometimes there's bursts of small sparklers from them if you listen closely. Like you're sitting at the edge of a pond in the morning before the mists rises and there's little sparkler fishes jumping out- I'm talking too much aren't I- sorry-"

 

"No, no it's fine." Akaashi says. "...So you see color?"

 

"It's kinda complicated. I see colors, but I also see images that associate with it- like your voice is the night sky just before the sun sets and it's dark enough you can start to see the glimmer of stars twinkling. Sort of the in the range of dark blue and purple with diamonds. Yeah. It's one of a kind." Bokuto muses. 

 

"...thank you."

 

Bokuto keeps silent, and nearly jumps when he feels cold fingers and a small pen tracing his skin, starting from his right middle finger, travelling up his wrist and towards his elbow.

 

The shop is quiet now. "What are you drawing?" He mumbles through the sleepy fog trying to pull him down. 

 

"Gardenias." Goes Akaashi's voice. "Take a nap, Bokuto-san. I'll wake you up before five."

 

That offer sounded too good to resist, and he's already nodding off. Bokuto makes a half hearted noise before Akaashi's breathing lulls him into sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up to the sight of Akaashi with his head near his shoulder, hair sticking up in half curls as Bokuto pulls the now cold rag from his face, and sees the barest hint of a pink sunrise peek over the horizon. His bus would be coming up his street soon, but he can't just leave Akaashi here. That's worst than forgetting to water his petunias.

 

So Bokuto wraps his jersey around the artist's bare shoulders, smiling softly as Akaashi lets out a little sneeze in the morning air. Bokuto looks down and sees his arm is drawn out beautifully with blacks and white pens, gardenias wrapping around his arm before it comes to a stop near his biceps. He studies his arm, side stepping around the dried painting and peering into the yogurt tubs full of grey water. It's purple outside now.

 

He goes to the back and starts the coffee machine, dumping a pack of instant coffee and placing it at Akaashi's side before stepping towards the door, and grinning when he sees a series of numbers masked cleverly in the ink.

 

"I'll be back." He calls out lightly, and he could have sworn Akaashi smiled in his sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_(As Bokuto's breathing evens out, Akaashi begins to draw the petals with broader strokes, thinking of how the ink flowing out the pen should be permanent, and how he hates permanence because it holds him back like an anchor._

 

_"...I don't think I would mind if you are permanent in my life..." He says quietly to Bokuto._

 

_And Bokuto's makes a satisfied little hum in his sleep)_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hehe gardenias means secret love in the japanese flower language 
> 
> sorta cringing at the middle of the thing because can you tell i rushed it? yes i did- im dying in ap bio


End file.
